Jaune's True Past
by FallingInStereo
Summary: Jaune Arc didn't live the life that he tells his friends he did. The real story is far more gruesome. When teams JNPR and RWBY pay a visit to his hometown, Jaune can't help but remember the truth. Some dark themes, and a bit of angst of some variety. A demented author's take on a possible version of Jaune's pre-Beacon life. Rated T because you know death and stuff...One Shot
1. The Original One-Shot

A/n I wrote this on my phone so the format is shit.  
[ ] indicates flashback setting 1 (during event)  
{ } indicates flashback setting 2 (post-event/Beacon)  
( ) indicates thoughts. Regardless of time.

Please drop a review after reading. It really helps my writing to know what works and what doesn't :)

Story summary: Jaune Arc didn't live the life that he tells his friends he did. The real story is far more gruesome. When teams JNPR and RWBY pay a visit to his hometown, Jaune can't help but remember the truth.

/

"Hey, Dad," Jaune sits down in front of his father. The elder Arc doesn't respond, as if waiting for Jaune to continue on his own. Jaune Arc: the boy who could never live up to the legacy of the sword at his hip. "How have you been?"

{He drags the razor across his side, grimacing as blood is drawn from the wound}

"I've been great. I, uh, well I got into Beacon," Jaune informs, scratching the back of his head. His voice had cracked, rising in pitch towards the end of the statement. Almost making it more of a question, an appeal for approval.

{"I lied, Pyrhha. I didn't really make it into Beacon. I got ahold of some fake transcripts, and lied my way so far over my head into this school. Don't you see? I'm a fake. A liar, and a cheat, and a fake."}

"So...how are the girls? I haven't seen all of you in so long I'm sure I wouldn't recognize any of them."

[Screaming, blood. A swipe of a claw, and the occasional roar pierces the din of terror surrounding them all.]

{"My mom always said that strangers are just friends that you haven't met yet."  
"My great-granddad used it to fight in the war."  
"These things tend to happen when you grow up with seven sisters."  
"...sisters."  
"Dad."  
"Mom."  
"My dad always said that all women look for is confidence..."}

(Where did I go wrong?) Jaune finishes the flash of memory in his head. He sighs as he stares up at his father. The man looks down on him, unwavering. Always patient. Always the one to let him vent his frustrations. Still here, even now.

{(if I wasn't such a coward they'd still be here) Jaune grimaces, pulling his shirt up farther and taking aim with his blade. With measured control, he presses the razor against his chest and rips it diagonally upwards.}

[As he laid there, having tripped on a stray piece of debris, one of his sisters swings her halberd to keep the beowolves off of her brother. After a slight overextension, one manages to get a lucky swipe in with its wicked claws, right across the torso]

"I know I couldn't do much back then, but hey, look at me now! I'm on one of the stronger teams in my year! I even have Pyrhha Nikos as my partner. I'm not sure if you know who she is- _I_ didn't know who she was when I met her. Awkward, right? Four-time tournament winner child star, and I never even heard of her."

[The family had gathered in order to defend the village: Nine Arcs, each with their own weapon, versus hundreds of Grimm. The village hadn't ever seen them in such numbers. The youngest Arc sits with the other villagers, too young to have started learning combat like his siblings. He couldn't do anything but watch.]

"The other people on my team? Did I mention that it's _my_ team? I'm the leader. Isn't that crazy? Anyway, there's Lie Ren. He's like this super kickass ninja that can make things explode with just his aura. And there's his childhood best friend-she'll insist that that's all that they are, by the way-Nora Valkyrie. She's like this giant force of explosions and demolition. Her weapon is a grenade-launcher-hammer. Just imagine Emmy with something like that, huh?"

[when the Grimm finally break through the Arc's defenses, the villagers scatter, running into their homes while the Arcs continue to fight, and a certain blonde boy stays just a few second too long. The Grimm seem to converge on the weakling, forcing the older members of the Arc family to defend him. Emmy brings down her giant cleaver to stop an Ursa in its tracks before it can eat her brother.]

"And then there's team RWBY: they get in a lot of trouble. All that White Fang business going on? They keep getting involved, trying to stop it all. There's some sort of anarchist uprising going on in Vale, too. It's nuts."

[Fangs dig into another one of his sisters' arms, tearing it from the joint even as their mother slips her katana in between the creature's ribs.]

{"So, Jaune, are your parents coming to Vale for the Vytal tournament?" Pyrhha questions her team leader, after Ruby mentioned her uncle passing by for her matches.  
"Oh, no. They're on a mission back home with this underground Grimm nest. Bad reception, too," Jaune waves off the idea, plastering in his signature grin that he'd spent way too long in the mirror trying to make look genuine. }

{(I could've done something-anything. Please, let this all be a dream) Jaune pleads with the gods, glancing down at the casket as it's put into the earth. No one hears him, of course. How could an angel possibly receive _his_ call, amongst the static of every other human's plea to be skies? Despite how much he wants to. He doesn't look away. He owes them that much. He holds his tears, casting a solemn look at each casket, one after another. He never blinks, never turns his head, until he can't see the polished wood anymore among the layers of dirt.}

{another cut straight across his back. It takes a lot of work to get it there. Jaune has to use his sword instead of the puny razor, the mirror as his guide as he pokes the tip against his lower back and pulls the blade up to his left deltoid. It should've ruined him, made it hard for him to lift his sword at all anymore, but he's made these same cuts many times before. It's only fitting that the blade he could've used to save them all is the same one he used to pay tribute to them.}

[Jaune doesn't really know why they all protect him like they do. The Arcs fight vigorously to defend him, even throwing themselves over him to take a series of claw marks on their backs.]

"I hope I can really honor you, Father. Your legacy deserves more. It deserves more than just me...but I'll make it work. I'll keep the Arc legend going. I promise."

[Dead. All dead. Jaune looks on in horror as the final body falls. The blue and silver sword clatters to the ground beside the man. He's almost sixty. For a hunter, that's old. The elder Arc isn't what he used to be, his body fragile, his instincts dulled. He fell to a bunch of Grimm. Not even strong ones, just lots of them. The little ten year old boy run over to his father, both of them breathing raggedly: one from exhaustion, one from anxiety. Jaune watches the light die from his father's paled azure eyes. He can see the sadness, the regret-but also the conviction. In one glance, a whole message: fight. Live. See another day. Jaune, filled with fear and anger alike, finds his hand drifting towards a sparkling blade close by.

It shines in his grip, humming a soothing tune that blocks out all other noise. Blocks out the shrill scream that escapes his lips as he takes both hands and raises the weapon high. Blocks out the sounds of bones breaking and blood splattering around. Blocks out the sounds of surprise from the villagers, as they peer at the scene from their homes. Blocks out the village elder as she peels him away from the final Grimm, ignoring her as he draws the blade out and plunges it back in. And again. And again, before blood loss eventually pulls him into passing out from battle fatigue.]

{"I'm sorry, son. Your father was a dear friend of mine," the grey-haired man in the green scarf offers his condolences to the Arc boy. The _last_ Arc. He even takes off his glasses so that he can look the poor creature in his blue eyes with his own brown pair. The blonde nods some form of acknowledgement, but is otherwise silent. Understandable. The man with the scarf sighs as he straightens himself out, already paid his respects to the statue erected in the graveyard. }

{Jaune learned a lot from his fight against the Grimm. 1: he had he potential to become a hunter. 2: he could've done what he did a lot earlier. He could've saved his family. Everyone, if he'd only taken up the last remaining spare sword from the family armory.  
(I can become a hunter. I'll be the best. This sword deserves that. My father deserves that) Jaune grips the blade tight. It would take a lot of work. He's so weak, regardless of age. He has one year to prepare for his application to Signal, the closest of the primary combat schools to his desolate and isolated hometown. }

{(Only two more) Jaune reminds himself as he crossed the blade over his shoulder. (One more) A cut down his opposite bicep. His sister had her arm torn off at that exact spot. And another took a cut right where he sliced his shoulder. And across his chest. And up his back. And down his abdomen. Every cut paid tribute to those he lost. He owed them something, even this gruesome retribution: to take every single injury they'd received defending him. Defending _him_ , the useless Arc boy. The dumb idiot who couldn't even make it into Signal, despite all of his rigorous self-training. }

{"I'm sure your father would be proud," Ruby beams up at him as he returns from the stage. Third place in the Vytal tournament. Farther then he'd ever expected, but not as far as he'd wanted. The blade at his side still deserved more. More than some guy who bumbled his way even this far. He reminds himself of this that night, pressing his sword into the space right above his clavicle. It mimics blow that killed his father. }

Jaune looks up at the statue. Jonah Arc, standing tall with his chin up, Crocea Mors under his palms, planted in the marble beneath him in a very knightly pose. The same sword and armor are strapped to the Arc boy before this statue.  
"I'm sorry. For not being able to do more," Jaune sighs, his right hand instinctively reaching up and tracing the wound right below the collar lining of his hoodie. Repeatedly making those nine cuts, and the few on his legs from just depression and loneliness in general, had made his skin scar over. Permanent reminders, they are: his tribute to those he failed to save.  
The statue doesn't move, but the slightest breeze pierced the overcast air, ruffling Jaune's hoodie. The boy sighs again, turning back to his teammates and friends, who welcome him with their warmth and reassuring hugs. They might never know the full story, but they know enough. The memorial grave is lined in gold and white lilies, each string reaching out from the center of the circle to the fringes. Seven points for this radius, each with the name of a female child. In the center of it all is a large tombstone, with a statue of two people looming behind it. Inscribed in the stone: Jonah and Mabel Arc.

/

A/N Holy fuck, this story. This story is my version of Jaune's past. I just thought it'd be interesting if Jaune had a darker past than one might expect. This is my answer to that thought. I mean, he seems to dote on his family a LOT in the series.

The present-day sections are set some time after the Vytal Tournament, possibly even in their second year. The [ ] section/the time a fuckton of Grimm invaded Jaune's isolated village, is set around ten or eleven years of age. The {} sections span from anywhere after that to the present.

In case it's hard to understand:  
Jaune and his family lived in an isolated village somewhat close to Vale. He is the youngest, at ten or eleven. His parents are around 58 in this story (8 years for 8 children, plus 11 for Jaune's age. Early retirement from being a hunter at 39 after a ton of adventures and probably a near-death experience that Mabel and Jonah shared).

When Jaune was eleven ish, swarms of Grimm unexpectedly attacked the village. The Arcs held them off for a long time, but when Jaune spectates a little too long after they break through the walls, the family has to also defend the child. Every other villager is hiding in the homes. The Arcs destroy most of the Grimm, but eventually all fall while trying to defend Jaune. Jaune, in a blinded state of rage, picks up his now-deceased father's sword and destroys the remaining Grimm, saving the village.

Jaune, as the last Arc, wants to honor the heirloom that he has at his hip. He also wants to honor his father as his legacy by becoming a hunter. When he fails to get into Signal, everything really crashes down, and he goes so far as inflicting each killing-blow wound that his family took to save him on himself. Albeit at a less severe level. He does this because he feels it all could've been avoided if he wasn't such a coward (since he was able to clean up the Grimm so easily after everyone died. This is false trauma-logic, as Jaune himself got multiple injuries during his fight). Somehow he ends up at Beacon.

Jaune's mental state requires him to believe that his family is still alive sometimes. His constant mentions of them, and taking almost all of their advice to heart, is his sort of way of keeping them alive in his mind, and honoring their lives even further.  
His hidden depressed state is covered by practiced actions. However, after the Vytal Tournament, despite getting third in his division, Jaune feels that he's still not doing his family name justice, and redoes the tribute cut on his neck that represents his dad.

Not wanting to give in to the truth, Jaune becomes a master of lying and the half-truth, pretending that his family is still alive as he weaves up stories to replace everything about his life from ages 10 to 17. He even talks to the graveyard statue as if it's actually his father. Basically he's a schizophrenic.

The whole legacy thing is something that Jaune forced on himself, much like he originally pushed away Pyrhha's help because he thought he needed to do everything alone.

I am a twisted and demented author.


	2. Chapter 2: The Ritual

**A/N Computer access hell yeah! So it seems that people** _ **do**_ **want this continued. I am going to start this with a basic pre-Beacon preface (prologue? I mean the one-shot came first, so is that the prologue? Or is that a trailer? Ugh), and then I'll be dropping us off in the magical land of teen angst and crap during Beacon. I'll also be changing Emmy's name because, you know, colors…**

 **This story from here will technically be ignoring the one-shot, in the sense that we're starting before the "present" of that happens.**

 **The Maverick Meerkat: Your wish is granted :)**

 **Shadow Marshal: The eventual understanding is the plan. Unfortunately, all the fam must be die. Otherwise I feel like Jaune would be able to bypass the idea of the legacy that he took unto himself, having an older sibling do it instead.**

 **ChromeWolfXZ: Love the username :) As mentioned, this will be from Beacon onwards, and I'll do my best to insert the cohesive backstory as necessary. This story will be semi-episodic, so it should be pretty easy to get down**

 **Guest: Nah, no one like Jaune can appear out of assholery. Thanks for dropping by!**

 **Z009: Thanks, bro!**

/

Jaune Arc lived a normal life. Well, as normal as life can be when you have seven older sisters, and two legendary Hunters as parents. With blonde hair and large deep-blue eyes, it was easy for one to imagine the boy as the pinnacle of innocence. With nine people protecting him from the world, it's only natural for this to be the truth. His parents could see the potential in him—to be a hunter, a warrior. Or, hell, he could be anything he really wanted.

That's why they always were there for him: preserving his childhood as much as they could. When he was thirteen, maybe, they would teach him the ways of the sword. He _had_ always shown interest in the grand retellings his parents' glory days—interest in the stories not including the Deathstalker-nest-extermination-gone-wrong that forced them both into early retirement at 40 years old to start their family.

/

They _would have_ taught him at thirteen. At seventeen years old presently, the teenage Jaune Arc has none of the teachings from his parents. None of the tutoring that might've been able to give him the ability to get into Beacon with legitimate means. This thought might spur one to resent their parents, for not offering that tutelage. In the case of Jaune Arc, this is not the case. In fact, it's quite the opposite.

He flips the sword around, catching the blade in his palm while holding the pommel in his right hand. He'd done this countless times before. In a span of six years, he'd lost track of how many times he's undergone this ritual. At Beacon specifically, he'd only done it twice: After he'd almost gotten him and his partner in serious trouble against a deathstalker, and when he ended up exposing his secret—well, one of his secrets—to Pyrhha Nikos, and by extension, Cardin Winchester.

The ritual itself had taken an addendum when he moved into the large secondary combat school. Now, he isn't alone. He has to check for his teammates. _Ren and Nora are in the cafeteria. Pyrhha…Pyrhha's training with Yang and Weiss, probably. Just in case_ , Jaune runs down the list before locking the bathroom door. The sword calls to him the second his privacy is secured.

And Jaune sates the weapon's wishes. He places his black hoodie on the counter beside him and taps the edge of Crocea Mors to his palm, after removing his gauntlet. Still sharp. This blade never dulls, after all: The perks of having a legendary weapon at your side. He looks to the mirror, now, drawing a sharp breath to himself. While he's memorized every specific place, it helps to have a visual cue.

Once he has this information locked, it's no problem for him to put the leather of his glove in between his teeth and bite down. Turning his shoulder towards the mirror, he makes the first cut. Right below the shoulder muscle, he slides the blade horizontally so that the cut ends at his inner bicep. _Annie_

He then points the blade against the lower right corner of his chest, dragging it upwards across the indicated line and stopping at the point where his collarbones meet. _Verdanna_. He recites these names as he makes these cuts, subsequently placing the wrappings and bandages over them.

Dropping the blade on the muscle in between the shoulder joint and the neck. An X on his stomach. A diagonal cut on the left side of his abdomen. Another X right over his heart. A gash on his left leg. The second to last is always annoying. Two gashes slowly etch themselves into his back, side by side, extending from his lower back up to right below where a T-shirt collar would fall. All during this, he mumbles their names.

Annie

Verdanna

Mandy

Morena

Marron

Blanche

Mother

Cherise

The final cut, the final tribute: Jaune places the side of the blade against a spot right above his left clavicle, and presses it against his skin until it draws blood. _Dad_ , he recites as he removes the blade from within his skin and drops a bandage over it.

Why'd he do this again today? He could see the pain in his teammates' eyes as Cardin's blackmail forced him to be away from them. He could see Nora's eyes lose a bit of their brightness when he couldn't join them for a "breakfast pancake raid." He could see Pyrhha's longing mixed with disapproval. And he hated it. He wanted to do… _something_. Anything, to help calm himself of his situation.

Being blackmailed sucks. Being dragged around like the idiot you think you are is worse, when you're not strong enough to stand up for your own beliefs. This is where Jaune is, at the moment. The worst thing is that, in the back of his head, he thinks one unfortunate thought: That he deserves it. "The fake deserves it. Let the cheat suffer his punishment." These words continually roll through his head, and the best he can do is drown it out. These practiced nine marks across his body, these tributes to his family, keep him sane, somehow. If anything, it's habit.

Having secured bandages over all of his injuries, the Arc puts his gauntlet back over his right hand and slips his hoodie over his head. He tugs at the collar of the article, making sure that it effectively covers the wound near his clavicle. He runs water over Crocea Mors, doing his best to remove every single fleck and drop of blood within the lavatory. Finally, once he's sure that his wardrobe is set fine, he looks in the mirror—really gazes long and hard. It's instinct, now, to plaster on that happy-go-lucky mask and joke around, but in the privacy of the locked bathroom, he can really see himself.

The slight deadness in his eyes, and the way his face naturally droops into a frown, with worried eyebrows and the slight sharpness in his cheekbones. Memorizing the way his face feels when this image is present before him, he works on contorting his face to changing it. It's gotten easier, really, to stretch out his lower face and widen his eyes just a little bit until the gaunt ghost of a boy changes into this innocent and at-least-somewhat-happy student persona. Satisfied with his ruse, he unlocks the bathroom door and sets out to continue his day, the urge to maim himself sated.

/

 **A/N Like I said, this will be an episodic thing: This chapter being an introduction to the full ritual of Jaune's "tributes." This is a very different story than I'm used to, so the first few chapters might be a bit rocky. The current set-up is going to be a flashback somewhat related to the following chapter, and each chapter will delve a little bit into his madness. After those few bits, I'll drop some "regular life" chapters in, and then we'll move to people finding out.**

 **Inspirations to this story are Tobias Kitsune's "Paper Cuts" and "Notes" stories (story? One's a rewrite of the other, so…) And whichever author wrote "Little Things." These stories really made me like the idea of a tragic-hero version of Jaune.**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Still in the establishing thingamabopper. Last episode was the introduction to Jaune's sort of self-hating tribute thing. This chapter was meant to delve into his depression, but it came off more as solving Jaune's Arc. Hue. But yeah from here I'll hopefully be able to think of general ideas and events that will affect the poor boy and his mind. The psychopathy of this Jaune comes in a few parts, for future reference:

Tributes: Jaune has the delusion that he needs to sacrifice his own body as retribution for past events.

Depression: You know, when you lose your entire family at age eleven you tend to get a bit fucked in the brain.

Schizophrenia: The voices inside my head are taking over. Is sort of a result of having no family, and needing someone to talk to. Right now the plan is to have Jaune have a sort of guiding voice. I'm trying to decide between "The sword speaks to me" and "I totally still talk to my non-existent family on a regular basis." Tell me which one you'd prefer! I'm impartial on the matter besides the fact that I want it.

/

Jaune Arc, at almost twelve, had taken up swordplay. With the resources he had at his disposal, the closest he had to a mentor on the subject was a library card and a very real—very _deadly_ , as previously displayed—ancient sword. These two things combined were enough, though, to begin to learn the basics of the art. How to stand, to parry, lunge, et cetera: All these were somewhat difficult to take in, due to a lack of anyone to point out his own flaws to himself. He needed to be able to see his own errors, scrutinize his pose with a certain brutality to make sure that he got every single aspect correct.

With access to an entire home to himself, and no real need to worry about space, he found no problem in clearing out the family room and putting the furniture into the garage. He could've made even more room by breaking up the wall between the family room and the garage, but then he'd need to put the furniture and stuff in his siblings' rooms, and they wouldn't like that.

He stood in the middle of the cleared family room, unsheathing Crocea Mors and holding it in his hands. He slips the unfolded sheath-shield onto his arm before going through the forms again. He _totally_ didn't take the imagined-enemies' moves from an action movie he'd seen when he was nine.

Duck, slash, shield-block, open up into a jab, and jab again, overhead block…

/

…Overhead block, and upward slash. The ursa major's head tumbles to the ground. Jaune sighs as he stands tall, clipping his shield to his side and sheathing the blade. The humming from the weapon had ceased once he lets go of its handle. Cardin gets to his feet, looking in awe at the blonde idiot who he'd been able to pick on for so long. Before he could stutter out any sort of praise or apology, Jaune stalks up to him, drawing up a single finger and poking it against the armored man's dented chestplate.

" _Never_ mess with me, or my friends, again. Got it?" the blonde scowls for the added intimidation. While not truly much of anything, it's enough to get the message across. Cardin nods skittishly. Satisfied, the blonde stomps away, not noticing the three women at the edge of the clearing.

Why save him? Why save the notorious bully? Jaune has no clue, but hey, the paperwork of "I let my classmate die" would've been a lot. On top of that, regardless, Jaune's mind doesn't let him ignore any event where someone else is in danger. If he can help, he will.

' _I could've done something-anything. Please, let this all be a dream,' Jaune pleads with the gods, glancing down at the casket as it's put into the earth. No one hears him, of course. How could an angel possibly receive_ _his_ _call, amongst the static of every other human's plea to the skies? Despite how much he wants to. He doesn't look away. He owes them that much. He holds his tears, casting a solemn look at each casket, one after another. He never blinks, never turns his head, until he can't see the polished wood anymore among the layers of dirt._

That night, he sits on the roof, glad that he can relax. There's no one around to see him ruminate on recent events. One problem solved, right? He sighs, wondering what could've been done differently. His mind does this a lot on automatic: Creating scenarios where things might've been better. A version where things go right. He's interrupted from this by a familiar voice behind him.

"Jaune?"

"Oh…hey, Pyrhha," Jaune gets to his feet.

"You're not hanging out with your 'buddy?'" the redhead questions.

"Oh, no, I uh…everything's good, now. I won't be hanging around Cardin that much anymore," he scratches the back of his head, aware of the awkward tension that had spread between the two of them, and their team.

"That's good," Pyrhha responds. "Why don't you come back to the dorm, then? Your team misses you." She turns around, deciding to leave Jaune with some basic motivation. "Ren made pancakes. No syrup, though. You can blame Nora for that one."

 _A version where he MAKES things right_.

"W-wait. Pyrhha," Jaune steps forward, jerking his hand forward in a strange sort of plea.

"Yes?" his partner turns around slowly. The blonde takes a breath to collect his thoughts.

"I know I was a jerk, and stuff, and I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," he scratches the back of his head, the apology another dance around the main topic tickling the back of his mind.

"You're forgiven, Jaune," she consoles. _Just do it_.

"I was thinking…Is that offer to train me still on the table?" To this, the Champion catches a mischievous gleam in her eyes, walking up to Jaune and, without warning, shoving him by his shoulders to the ground.

"Your stance is too high. Try bending at the knees," she extends her hand to him with a smile.

"Right," Jaune chuckles as he's pulled to his feet. While maybe a true hero wouldn't need secret tutoring from anyone, there's nothing in the rulebook that says Jaune can't cheat his way around a bit, right? It's not like he hasn't before.

/

A/NThese chapters, despite coming out once a week, are going to be a short like this for a while. Mainly because it helps to keep things, especially these establishing chapters, short and a bit flowy. This chapter was originally supposed to go into Jaune's depression, as I said, but it ended up just solving Jaune's main problem within the show (Excluding "I can't get a date" and "My friend tried calling me in the middle of the night and there was static and what."). Still important I guess, and it also shows a bit of Jaune's mind (Casting Cardin as a villain, yet still having his past affect him enough to force him to action. And the slight hero complex).

This story is actually difficult for me to write out as a full thing…At least for right now.

Someone had mentioned that all of the teen characters in RWBY are named after colors. Don't worry, I kept this in mind with his family's names:

Name (Color relation) (color root) Age (Death Mark included):

Jonah Arc 40 Cut to area above clavicle. Left side.

Mabel Arc 40 Left leg.

Verdanna Arc (Green)(Verdant) 18 Cut across chest

Cherise Arc (Red)(Cerise/Cherry) 17 Claws across entire back.

Annie Arc (Blue)(Amaratado) 16 Right arm ripped off. Blood loss.

Madeline/Mandy Arc (Orange)(Mandarin) 15 Trapezius muscle. Right side.

Morena Arc (Purple)(Morado) 14 Stabbed in stomach

Marron Arc (Brown)(Marron) 13 Left side obliques

Blanche Arc (White)(Blanc) 12 Stabbed in heart

Jaune Arc (Yellow) 11


	4. Chapter 4: The Sword

A/N Maybe I can actually go into the mental disorder shit like an actual good writer for once or maybe this chapter will come off as fucked up idk it's like 3 in the morning. Planning is not my forte. More establishing chapters woo.

On another note, my email got spammed by "Blank is now following this story" and stuff within two hours of posting the last chapter. Sometimes I forget that this story is popular for some reason…

/

The sword didn't actually talk, truly. Inanimate objects don't have souls, or personalities, or whatever. That didn't stop a fifth-grader from having an imagination, though. How many times did you pretend you had magic powers as a kid? Or a little fairy sprite that followed you everywhere to keep you company? Well, Jaune had a fucking sword that talked to him when he was alone.

Perhaps such a thing might not have solidified into a permanent mental condition if the others in the village had tried to do anything about it. The problem was that the sword's voice had manifested long before anyone could see it. And besides, Jaune was the closest thing to a hunter that the village had, since his family had gone and died.

And when you see a little pre-teen waltzing around town with a sword in his hands, you tend to be a little discomforted. Especially when that kid has three moods: Happy, but _talking to a sword_. Depressed, and dragging a sword behind him. Or having that glossy gaze that should only belong to a hardened veteran of war, while _holding a fucking sword_. See my point? Scary to a bunch of farm folk that is Jaune's village.

/

But is a normal thing to see in one Ruby Rose, who seems to talk to her own weapon with equal fervor as the blonde (which is funny because Ruby carries a glorified farm tool). Of course, Ruby's affection for her weapon is rooted in a high fascination for murder devices. Jaune's own conversations are more rooted in abject loneliness, having created some hidden manifestation of his family. Most likely, the boy has all the same thoughts as these manifestations do, or he would have, if he didn't imprint his consciousness into the sword and make it contain the artificial spirits of nine people…and sometimes the sword itself.

And so, sometimes when Jaune is alone, the sword still talks to him like when he was a child. At this point, Crocea Mors had lost his need to be Jaune's sole companion…or advice giver…or trainer. Really all the sword did now was take blood sacrifices. So it let the fake spirits that Jaune had created loose instead. Like how right now Jaune was just feeling sad and lonely again. Stuff like that tends to happen when everyone else is off doing something or another: Homework, training et cetera, and you'd already done all of that. Having ten minds working at once makes it easier to write an essay sometimes.

Now Jaune is sitting alone in the dorm, Crocea Mors propped up against the bed across from him. The spirit that Jaune had conjured in this case is his eldest sister, who'd made a little house call to catch up some.

" _So like I said, it's pretty boring back home. The other girls are fine. I think you should come visit some time soon. We all miss you,"_ Verdanna sighs, propping her chin up in her palm, her elbow resting on her knee. Were Jaune by any means sane, he might've noticed that his "eldest sister's" body had no impact on the still-crisp-and-smooth bed sheets.

"I miss you guys, too. It's been what—almost a year now? It'd be great to hang out back home, like we used to. Plus, you haven't met my team yet! They're awesome. And Vale is pretty sweet, too. It's so much different in the city compared to the village," Jaune smiles at the apparition of his sister.

 _"I imagine so. After all, my little brother only deserves the best, right—?"_ The ghost of Verdanna disappears in a spark of light as the sound of the dorm room handle turning catches Jaune's attention. Upon noticing this, Jaune sighs a whisper of discontent. They always disappear when other people are nearby. Regardless, he quickly puts on his smile and grabs a notebook to pretend that he was actually doing something productive. Pyrhha wouldn't stand for it if he wasn't, after all.

"Hello, Jaune," his partner greets as she closes the door behind her.

"Hey, Pyrhha," Jaune replies as he scribbles into his notebook. "How'd the library go?"

"Team RWBY tried introducing me to some board game. I'm loathe to admit that I'm terrible at it," the redhead sighs.

"Wait you're actually _bad_ at something?" Jaune jokes, casting his notebook to the side.

"I'm much better at actual combat than a board game," Pyrhha pouts, sitting where Verdanna had previously resided.

"I noticed," the blonde chuckles, walking over and picking up Crocea Mors from where it's propped up. "So, training after dinner?"

"Sure," the Champion nods with a smile.

/

 _Okay, strategies. Need strategies,_ Jaune hides behind his shield. Pyrhha had trained him well in defense to start, utilizing his large reserves of aura in order to at least prolong fights and hope for an opening. The level of endurance achieved from such training also had the added benefit of possibly simply out-lasting opponents. However, lately they'd started working on developing offensive strategies.

" _Here's a strategy: Stabby stab stabby mc-stabberson all over her throat_ ," Crocea Mors whispers to Jaune.

 _Yeah, no,_ Jaune internally groans as he parries a strike from Pyrhha.

" _Heh, it worked seven years ago."_

 _But you see, people tend to—fuck!_ Jaune bends backwards to avoid a swipe, realizing that his mind had gone on automatic with the defense. Which sucks, because he hasn't been at it long enough to actually have good instincts with that action.

 _"Yes, people tend to fuck. It's called reproduction."_

 _Shut up, Sword_. The blonde hardens his gaze and focuses on the scrimmage at hand. Crocea Mors had given him an idea, either way: All out aggression. Maybe in the past it wouldn't work, since he was unskilled in the actual workings of it, but with Pyrhha's help, his mastery and handling of his weapon is strong enough to maybe have a chance.

He lunges into the attack, the rules of this scrimmage being for Jaune to actually _do_ something, rather than seeing the duration of time he can take Pyrhha's assault. While his body carriage is still weak, tapping into his old self and Crocea Mors' blood lust in order to make use of curt strikes with his sword and utilizing his legs for the attack as well. The sword in his right hand seems to hum in approval at this aggression.

While such a basic strategy has no impact on a jaded warrior like Pyrhha, the constant hammering against her shield does weaken her over time, giving Jaune enough room to slip his weapon upwards past her guard and—

Get totally wrecked by a sudden arm grapple and flip onto the floor. Classic.

/

A/N Tada, the voices! For the flashback-preface section of this chapter: While he has the sword with him, sometimes the voice he'd created for Crocea Mors comes out on its own to console or talk to him. On top of this, he often talks to the fake family he'd created as if they were still alive, but only when alone. In a sense, this keeps the illusion from being broken by any onlooker who states that no one's actually there.

Basically Jaune's a schizophrenic, and his voices are all tied to the blood-lusting sword of destruction. People had mentioned the sword could talk to Jaune, compelling him to do the tribute thing. Since it's in his head, and he'd already thought of doing it, adding a second voice in his head to tell him to sacrifice blood to the sword kinda just pushed him over the edge to actually doing it. To just do it. The sword is Shia LaBoeuf.

And I keep mentioning the Jaune keeping his family alive stuff. I think I've shown like three ways of him doing that (Tributes, making up lies to fill in the "dead" space, and the ghosts of siblings' past). The lies being built off of whatever the apparitions tell him is "going on."

The mention of Ruby in the first paragraph of the "present day" section means to show the difference between Ruby's adoration for weaponry and Jaune's rather more demented reason for talking to his own weapon.

I love the feedback this story gets in terms of ideas on what to do. It's like, I can have the voices on a page instead of in my head—I mean I can have input from other people. Yeah. That…

Vulcan2312: Love the idea of sort of doing both :3 As you can see I did the thing. Only reason I'm not doing the whole all-the-ancestors thing is because I'd have to make up a bunch of different personalities to infuse into the sword, and I'd never keep them straight anyway.

JankySaladSpiner: This is something I didn't really explicitly state ever, but Jaune's mind makes him believe that Crocea Mors has a bloodlust or some sort of quota that needs to be met. Sometimes this is fulfilled by the compulsory tributes thing, and sometimes by attacking grimm. And in terms of pacing, I am trying to keep it somewhat intact by spanning it out at the length that I am. In the Team BYRN drabble thing, I somehow pushed out those thousand words a day, and damn that was draining.


	5. Chapter 5: Blue-Eyes White Demon

A/N This chapter is weird. All the chapters are weird, but like…writing on the subject of infatuation and love is difficult when you've never experienced much of it yourself. Writing on the topic of loyalty and betrayal, though, is pretty easy. Does it sound like I'm giving away the basis of this chapter in the pre-author-notes? I mean I titled the chapter "Blue-Eyes White Demon" so you already know what this is about, so….

/

Jaune Arc the child was naturally enthralled in the idea of heroes and villains. Well, rather the part where a hero triumphs over evil, and is adored by the people, and maybe even finds love in the end. After all, what is a knight without his princess? These types of stories are what drove the child Arc to want to become a hunter. While Remnant was in a time of peace, heroes can still be made. Perhaps he'd save a village from a grimm attack. Or stop a few petty bad guys. Either way, the idea of being a hero was important to the child Arc.

To become strong. To be the best, or at least to be significant to those he held dear. To have enough power to make his own choices, and protect the people. These ideals held Jaune up as a child. His father was a hero, and what son didn't look up to his dad? He'd instilled important knowledge into the boy, mainly on the topic of confidence. Regardless of the truth, confidence could carry one far. The self-confidence in one's abilities could rally allies to battle, or put up enough of a façade to gain trust. Confidence is key.

/

 _Bullshit_ , Jaune grumbles, swinging his sword idly on the rooftop. His confidence had gotten him nowhere. Granted, it was all false confidence, but no one else necessarily knew that. Jaune finds solace in being on the rooftop, in being alone with the stars and the cool night air. It helps that he can work out some of his frustrations in his swordplay, slashing at imaginary foes and trying to improve in secret.

Jaune had come out here after being rejected for the umpteenth time by Weiss. It feels strange to him: Were his actions dictated by any actual emotion at this point, or was it just habit? Months of doing the same thing to the point where he just did it by reflex? Maybe originally he'd done it because of his emotions. When he'd first seen the heiress, all he could focus on was her amazingness. A pale snowflake floating through the waning summer that the Beacon initiates had arrived during.

And with no stigma of his past, he found no problem in trying to make a good first impression. And since then he'd only continued to find more reasons to have interest for the Snow Angel. An amazing singer. A powerful fighter. Composed and focused at most times. With her small flaws: her haughty personality, and that small scar around her eye, she still seemed human enough.

Besides, perseverance and dedication were important traits, right? Maybe if he just kept up with it long enough, she'd come around. But, as time had shown, there was no mercy from the Ice Queen, in any shape or form. No gentle letdown or some reason against his advances. Not even enough care to make up some bullshit lie or excuse. It hurt, now especially, to never even been given a remote chance. Knocked out right from the gate. It sounds familiar to Jaune as he says this in his mind.

 _Signal_ , he remembers. For all his self-training back then, he couldn't have even gotten into a primary combat school. He was never given a chance. His time at Beacon showed him that, given an opportunity, he could make the most of it. His dedication to a cause was powerful, and his will even more so. Sadly, he was never even given a chance, despite the hours upon hours he'd poured into swinging around one of his only friends, that sword that he slashes in semi-calculated swings right now.

It's a similar situation now, in his mind. Weiss had never even entertained the possibility that maybe Jaune had something to offer. Maybe he's not the strongest, or the smartest, and _certainly_ not the most confident, but his bravery had to mean something, right? Nope. The damn princess just shat on all his feelings with no regard for their actual presence. He'd come to be infatuated with _her_ , not her money, or her name, but she never bothered to give him enough cognitive attention to even think of that. All he needed was one chance. _Pyrhha_ had given him a chance, and look how far he'd developed under her wing. Weiss, however, was stone-cold, with those piercing blue eyes. A damned demon, as far as Jaune was concerned anymore.

A blue-eyed white demon, commanding the frost to elicit the burns she wants delivered. At some point, maybe, he'd reached out to her to an extent because of his loneliness. Yes, he has his family, but family can only mean so much in terms of interaction. But now, he'd accepted it. Weiss is a lost cause, for helping him _or_ for helping herself.

That whole flirting thing he'd done with her would end today, and Jaune would likely not bother flirting with any other girl, either. If he's being honest with himself, he doesn't really have any traits that would make him appeal to them, anyway. With that final thought, he puts Crocea Mors back into its sheathe, lays down on the rooftop, and lets himself have a bit of a much-needed cry.

Not really one of anything particular, but more of a build-up of all the stress he has. With his conclusion on his attempts with Weiss, and his still fairly mediocre academic and combat abilities, it just feels…strange. Like despite all that, it doesn't even particularly matter. Nothing really matters, he just feels empty. Insignificant. Unworthy. No point in trying if even your best efforts will net no results. His mind is just a mess that he's powerless against. Crocea Mors whispering that it's okay to give up every once in a while helps a little bit for his emotional state, but that mentality is still unfortunately unstable.

In the weeks to come, this change in his actions would go largely unnoticed by his friends at first. But eventually, Weiss would notice the missing interaction with the idiot. It feels strangely uplifting at first, to be rid of the annoyance. However, as time goes on, the Ice Queen would come to miss the attention. The feeling that maybe someone cares. In the kindness that Jaune had continually shown to her and her team, regardless of her rude rejections, it felt as if someone cared, but now she didn't have that. Now the Jaune that talked to her only when necessary was a Knight of Apathy.

/

A/N that last paragraph is just meant to show that while Jaune's mind makes him think that he really serves no purpose or is insignificant, that he does have some sort of impact. This chapter targets Jaune's parents' advice that all girls look for is confidence. Upon coming to the realization that this is false, he gives up on the prospect. While still kind and considerate to those he really considers friends, he stops going out of his way to try an impress people (Weiss) or get them to go out with him.

Technically, this is a step in the right direction for Jaune: To stop hiding behind false confidence and ploys. The problem being the mentality behind this decision. However, from here it makes it easier to build the boy back up with some actual confidence and sense of self-worth. You know, in like the waaaaaaay future. Also, that chapter title? I love it.

Will I ever actually write chapters that aren't stream-of-consciousness angsty rhetoric trash? Maybe…


	6. Original plansynopsis Discontinued

A/N Yes, this story is like five months dead. This is not an actual chapter so much as the original plans I had for this. This story mainly died because of schoolwork suddenly bogging me down, but also a lack of ideas.

I'll be honest, this story's design was a mix of another "Jaune has a dark past" style story and also a coping mechanism for my own insanity. I'm fine now, but including the design of my real life—and how things played out—into the plot would've been really cheesy and useless ("oh ha ha look having a relationship solves everything!").

So, like any of my stories (and all, because at some point my motivation always dies out), this is going to be the general synopsis

/

Premise: Jaune's family died when he was young—defending him from a grimm attack. As time goes on, Jaune's loneliness and childhood trauma eat at him, creating the persona of Crocea Mors, as well as the specters of his family. On a large scale Jaune's mind becomes a duality of childishness and sadness: One where he sort of believes the ghosts around him and one where he remembers that his family is really gone.

Jaune's sadness personality contains all of his strife, including the strange idea of harming himself in the places where the mortal blows were dealt to his family, using crocea mors as the blade. He grows up very family oriented, in part because, while he might believe that his family did a lot of the cooking and cleaning in the house, it was actually himself, giving him all those skills.

At Beacon, this continues. After a few months of rejection from Weiss, Jaune finally comes to the conclusion that it's pointless to chase someone who doesn't return his feelings…but also comes to the conclusion that the entirety of romance is pointless for someone like him. By definition, this is still bad, but is actually a step in the right direction.

The first obvious incident comes from a project given by Port: To study the biology of an assigned grimm, in partners. The fact that grimm disintegrate upon death leaves few options: studying and observing live creatures, or hoping that one person can gather the data while the other kites the monsters around. Jaune gets paired with Weiss, much to her chagrin.

Not that it matters to Jaune. While he's "over" Weiss, the truth of the matter is that he's still recovering from the wound to his heart, and in retaliation comes off as more brash than expected in order to distance himself from previous affections. Right down to business, to Weiss' surprise, he lays out the plan and basic ideas for studying the beowolves.

In the woods, Weiss records what observations she can while Jaune runs around, slicing the grimm apart. The level of skill is not too surprising, after Pyrhha's training. However, there's a level of recklessness as well. In Jaune's eye, all he sees are the same monsters that killed his own family. Even though these memories are locked in his current state, it still affects his fighting, removing much of his fear in place of bloodlust.

The overall efficiency of the project makes it be done very quickly. Jaune copies the information he needs to assist Weiss in coming to conclusions for the paper, and leaves immediately. This is when the change in Jaune really strikes Weiss, and this difference slowly seeps into the range of vision of the rest of the group. Not that anyone ever brings it up.

As previously mentioned, Jaune had created a persona for Crocea Mors, the only possession he truly had as a kid, and the focal point of his loneliness and despair. Cardin's bullying, despite being saved by Jaune in the past, eventually continues. His battlefield banter hits a little too close to home while Jaune's in a more emotionally vulnerable state (sadness mode) and pokes fun at the idea that even Jaune's mother probably doesn't love him anymore.

This sets Jaune off, the same shiny quality Crocea Mors had the day Jaune's family was slaughtered returning to the weapon as he focuses on Cardin, yelling the fact that his mother is dead before throwing the shield portion of Crocea Mors to the side. The defensive tool gets lodged in the wall as Jaune makes an insane dash at Cardin. In his own mind's eye, the image of the bully begins to blend and fall apart—from an armored hunter-in-training to a towering ursa. Jaune wins the fight by definition before passing out mere seconds after Goodwitch calls the match.

After waking, RWBY and JNPR show Jaune the match footage—something that he doesn't necessarily remember. Blake specifically notices a suspicious mark on Jaune's arm, shown through his torn sleeve, but doesn't bring it up around the others. From here, Jaune's central mind becomes more aware of a third mental divide, and begins to fear himself.

Come the Breach, Jaune slowly unravels, becoming good at being a hunter but at the same time losing his tactician's edge, until Pyrhha confronts him. Jaune, being tired from a long night when this happens, has his guard down, and reveals everything. Pyrhha comforts him as he breaks down. At this point their partnership dynamic becomes very tight-knit, with an emotional safeguard for Jaune. Both parties mistake the full of these actions as indications of a…different relationship.

Pyrhha, of course, is elated at finally having the object of her affections. Jaune is happy to know that at least _someone_ that's still living gives a shit. However, this eventually falls apart at Jaune's lack of showing affection to the champion. Pyrhha's patient, of course, but it being her first relationship ever, there's bound to be some emotional immaturity issues there. On top of this, Pyrhha's own musings eventually come to the conclusion that her attraction to Jaune might've resulted from her own loneliness, latching on to the first possible signal of hope she could find. The two break up, but remain rather cordial and friendly regardless—which shows the level of both detachment and attachment the two have for each other due to their emotional turmoil.

This is mainly to explain that 1. People break up. It's high school, essentially. Duh. 2. A relationship doesn't necessarily solve someone's depression. Sometimes the added stress of not only having normal fears of disappointment, but also now having a specific person to fear disappointing, can make it worse. Jaune's mind is equally wracked by schizophrenia anyway. As time goes on, Jaune finally gets the help he needs, and becomes almost entirely stable. Well, stable in the sense of entirely repressing his mental divides so that they appear less often.

Stable enough, he believes, to reveal his truth to his friends. Everyone takes his decently well. After all: Ruby knows a bit about social isolation, Yang can understand the effect of losing family, Nora and Ren know the importance of having someone be there as a child, Pyrhha knows the pain of loneliness, and Blake already suspected. Weiss, however, only knowing Jaune's annoyingly-flirtatious and extremely-down-to-business platforms, calls bullshit.

The two have a conversational as well as a real duel, the two exchanging blows as they exchange arguments. This leads to Jaune hitting a bit too close to home on the loneliness front, revealing everything about Weiss' own isolated nature and how she purposefully pushes some people away. The result of the dance proves this, that despite everything good between her and Neptune, it didn't feel…right. Within the same duel, Jaune's "schizophrenic apparitions" of his family become very real and very visible, leaping into action to give Jaune a reprieve against Weiss' wrath.

This moment would lead to a lot of explanations and rationalizations. Jaune's home life was supplemented by his own power, manifestations of his family running around to give the illusion of a full house. These apparitions still only worked on Jaune's own knowledge, but it still helped to an extent. The fact that the apparitions had always disappeared when another person came into view would've mislead the readers, hopefully, up until this point, as to how they worked.

The remainder of the story would've followed Jaune's slow separation from his insane half, while still channeling the power it had (that "crocea mors" had) for his use. REAL healing, not just suppression as he did before. The need to help Jaune is evident in most of the RWBY/JNPR combo, and even Weiss now. By the end of the story, it's evident that Jaune's existence really helped keep the two teams together and grow stronger as a result. Blah blah happy ending whatever. The full of the story would end with the graveyard scene from the original oneshot, with the addition of the two teams walking away from the site contented, ready to graduate Beacon.


End file.
